Your Vappen
by o0-Trollin4tehLulz-0o
Summary: Germany has  organized a romantic meal with Italy, and leaves Italy to cook. When he comes home, the house is covered in tagliatele. Madness ensues  Fluffs. GerIta


_Vas is zis?_

Germany had come home to a house of pasta. It was as though his home had been myusticlaly turned into a giant lasagna.

But this was one lasagna he didn't have an appetite for.

Entering the kitchen, a scowl nlazing on his handsome yet angulat face, Germany turned to his love, ready to shout at the young man covered in spaghetti.

"Germany! I love you!" Italy flung himself joyously at his boyfriend, in the manner of a small puppy.

Germany stood there, glaring at the young Italian, as a singular piece of linguini slid off his German face, to his supreme annoyance.

Italy joyfully ate said piece of pasta with gusto (which is the Spanish for taste ...). "You taste so good, Germany. I should use you instead of plates!" He said with a vacant grin.

Crestfallen, Germany tried to untangle himself from the crazy youth's hold, only to find that he was wrapped up in soaghetti. _Damn... Dis is NOT vat I had been planning when I arrived to mein home... I vanted to relax... *cries*_

Sensing Germany s internal angst, Italy ran to the kitchen, with his Aryan lover in tow. He grabbed a bowl an scouped a large potion of pasta off the ceiling into it. "This should cheer you up, a stor, pastaaa!"

With a sigh, Germany glanced around the room, who's walls could barely be seen for the lasagna coating. He tried to lose himself in the smell of... salty pasta water? No tomato base? _Vas is dis?_ Finally, his gaze returned to that of the grinning idiot. With a jolt, he realzed that he had been asked a question. Shoot.

"Umm.. Yes, but of course, Italia..."

Italy then joyously pulled a thouroughly confused Germany to the table and sat him down. He then plopped into his lap and began spoon-feeding him plain, dry pasta from the bowl... and the table around the bowl. This was also covered in fusili.

_I feel so patronized at zis moment... _Germany thought, shutting his mouth as Italy did not quite know when one's mouth was too full to accept more pasta._ More pasta vich tastes like ceiling und paint... Ugh._

Germany was not amused.  
Not.  
One.  
Bit.  
Ever.  
In.  
His.  
Life.  
Stupid.  
Italy.  
God.  
DAMMITl

Italy's vacant grin faltered. Germany seemed ill... or angry... he leapt clear of his lover and began apologising and sobbing into the pasta. "I'm sorry, Germany I don't really know what I did but you seem angry and I don't like it when you're angry because you get quite scary and I'm not sure if you'll eat me or something, which I know is crazy, but hey! that's what happens when I get afraid, will you please forgive me, or should I go and baracade myself in the bathroom again? I know I can make several white flags from the towelsin there, if that will make you less angry at me, please don't be mad at meeeeee!"

Germany blinked. He didn't realize how angry he had looked. He was surprised, and yet totally unsurprised at Italy's reaction. Surprised because he hadn't thought he had been so scary looking. Unsurprised because Italy had said the same thing last week when he had eaten his precious wurst... A small tear escaped from his blue eye then... Alas, Germany looked over at the distaught face of his lover, and realized that he couldn't leave hime like this. He stood up, and ran his hand along the pasta-sticky wall, and begun to wipe the tears of Italy with a piece of lasagna.  
"Don't cry, mein Italy. I'm am not angry vit you, just tired, don't be sad."

"R-really?" Then, overjoyed, Italy frlung his arms around Germany's neck and started to cry tears of joy. "Then I can stay out here and not go into the bathroom?"

With a small smile, Germany patted Italy's head. "Yes, of course. No more vite flags fur you."

Italy didn't know if he should be glad of frightened. No more white flags could mean he was not to be afraid any longer... or it could mean he would have to fight. He whimpered at the thought. He quietly snuffled a piece of soaghetti off of Germany's broad, masculine shoulder.

Germany rolled his bright eyes to the ceiling, then quickly looked elsewhere. He did not want to be reminded of the ridiculous state his house was in. He would have to clean that later... Still, he looked at Italy, who was happily slurping on a piece of pasta and smiled. He couldn't be mad at that adorable child-like ( but not in a weird way) face.

Italy looked up at Germany, half a piece of pasta jutting out of his lips and smiles.  
"Ooo wan soo?"

_Wan soo? Is this an Asian nation I do not know about... No, that's not right... That's Wang Yong Soo, or something... Oh! He's attempting to speak! Oops. I must try to answer him..._  
"... no?"

Italy swallowed the last of the pasta, and smiled wistfully, "Are you sure? It is very nice pasta - just the way Mama makes it!" He grinned joyfully, remembering some good pasta-times...

Germany was confused. Italy had a mother? He sighed dejectedly. He had always wanted a mother, but he had none. Nought but an annoying brother, and a slightly less annoying boyfriend. _Vell, could be vorse..._ Germany turned around and began to tidy up bits of pasta, placing them carefully into the bowl for Italy's consumption.

Italy sighed, exasperated at Germany's incessant tidying. His features then brightened, as he realised he could help with this mess. He dropped to his hands and knees and began eating pasta off the lower section of the walls, and the floor.

Germany could not hide his disgust at Italy's vacuum-like actions. This was unacceptable. But yet, he had been angry earlier, and if he were angry again then Italy may make a pasta-fort. Hmm... Best leave him to it... But maybe... Germany went to get a fork from the tagliatele covered drawer, and gave it to Italy. _More hygenic._

Italy took the fork gratefully, and used it to loosen the pasta, which he then gripped with his teeth. _Much more efficiant_. He pulled great sheets of pasta off the wall, and sat and ate them with a big joyous grin on his happy face.

Germanly looked down softly at the Mediterranean man and his silly attempts at eating wallpaper. He sighed, and stood up, turning to leave the small, yet suffiently pasta-filled, kitchen, taking a spaghetti covered book with him. "Italia, I am going to lie down now and relax. I expect zis to be clean vhen I return, ja?"

Itally mumbled incoherantly, through a mouthful of pasta and wallpaper, noding and giving a thumbs-up. He then swallowed enough... food... to choke a grown man. and tore another section of pasta-paper off the wall and began to chew.

When Germany returned to the kitchen two and half hours later, the kitchen walls were bare, and the floor ran red with pasta sauce. He looked up in a daze as he saw Italy with a paintbrush, filling in the pasta/wallpaper-less walls with pasta sauce. Then, Italy turned to him with a great big smile on his face.

"Ve~Doitsu! Look what I did!"

"ITALIAAAAA!"

FIN

A/N: We love you guys! :D 3 Plz review and stuff. If yaz want. :D


End file.
